Page 37 of Daddies’ Holiday Toy (Kissmass Daddies #1)

HOLLY

The silence is suffocating.

It’s soaked into the walls and carpet, crawling over my skin until I can barely think past the hum of it.

No one’s moving, no one’s even breathing loud enough to break it.

When Jack finally does, I’m momentarily relieved. “Do you know who the father is?”

The question lands in my gut like a punch, my stomach seizing so hard it’s almost painful.

I meet his eyes anyway despite being afraid to, even though it feels like stepping into the open and waiting for the shot to hit my chest.

“No… I have no idea when I conceived, and even if I did there’s no way to be sure. I’ve…hooked up with all of you multiple times without protection.”

My voice wavers, heat creeping up my neck from the humiliation of admitting how stupid I’ve been, but I force myself to finish. “There’s no way to narrow it down.”

“Are you planning on keeping it?”

The question is quieter, but it still feels like it hits me with the same force as before.

“I—” I swallow hard, bile threatening to climb my throat again. “I don’t know.”

His fingers flex once, twice, his shoulders tightening like he’s holding himself in place, forcing himself to remain still instead of pace around.

The quiet comes back, swallowing the space between all of us once more.

So softly I almost miss it, Reece speaks. “I don’t…know if I can be a dad again.”

It’s not said with any sort of malice.

It’s resigned, heavy in a way that makes me feel sorry for him. I turn toward him instinctively, searching his face for something more other than the quiet devastation that he’s already wearing.

His eyes are fixed on the floor as he speaks, his tone impossibly quiet and so different than what I’m normally used to.

“I’ve already got three kids, Holly. Bringing another one into the family wouldn’t be fair to them. Or to you.” He hesitates. “Regardless of which one of us is the father…I’m not sure if I?—”

He cuts himself off, jaw tightening.

I don’t need him to finish.

I already know exactly what’s hanging unsaid between us. If you keep it, and it’s mine, I can’t step up. I can’t be there the way you’d need me to.

I thought I’d prepared myself for at least one of them to react like this.

I told myself it wouldn’t gut me because I understood that it was my fault for being so careless in the first place for not telling them I wasn’t on anything.

But hearing it out loud, it splits something open deep inside me anyway.

For a second I have to fight to keep my voice steady. “I get it.”

And I do.

I really do.

None of them signed up to become fathers, or in Reece’s case, fathers for a second time.

This was supposed to be a casual, sexually exciting arrangement with no strings attached.

Yet here I am, telling them they’ve potentially entered into the biggest string of attachment there is.

“You might…” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “It might not be the best idea to keep it.”

I’m not sure which hurts worse, knowing Reece is probably right, or realizing how much I’d been hoping for a different answer.

Jack’s voice cuts in again, and this time there’s no mistaking the edge in it now.

There’s frustration there, yes, but also something that feels a lot like anger. “This is what I was afraid of when you two started this mess.”

His gaze flicks between Reece and Liam.

“None of this was supposed to happen in the first place, and now here we are, being forced to deal with the consequences.”

I flinch, and without meaning to unconsciously put a hand over my belly protectively.

Consequences.

I hate that word. I hate that it’s exactly what I told myself less than a day ago when I was with Mallory, because now it feels hurtful.

“I’m sorry. Were you not also involved in this?” Liam spits out, taking a step forward to crowd Jack’s space. “Because I distinctly remember you also being a willing participant.”

“That’s not the point,” he snaps back.

“Isn’t it?” Liam’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Sure, Reece and I started it, but once Holly gave you the greenlight you were all in. So don’t stand there and put all of this on our shoulders when you’re also part of the problem.”

Problem.

It’s not just what he says, it’s how he says it.

Cold and detached, like this isn’t even about the pregnancy anymore and has all to do with messing around with me when they knew it was better not to.

I feel my shoulders curl inward without meaning to, my arms tightening around myself.

Small.

That’s what I feel, like I’m folding in on myself just to keep from being crushed under the weight of their shared disappointment.

I fucked them all over by getting knocked up.

It’s all my fault.

Jack shakes his head slowly, stepping back away from Liam before either of them can start swinging.

Something in me gives way then in a quiet, exhausted snap.

I’m too raw to keep standing here like this, debating on who to point the finger at.

I’m too tired to watch them all process the news and discuss it like it’s the burden they never asked for.

All your fault.

“I can’t—” My voice catches, and I have to start again. “Can you all please just go.”

Jack’s mouth presses into a thin line.

For a second, it looks like he might argue, but when he takes another look at me, his mouth seals shut.

He heads back for my bedroom, presumably to grab his clothes and get dressed.

Reece follows, his silence somehow heavier than Jack’s, and Liam is right behind him.

It takes them all less than five minutes to return and shuffle to the door, avoiding any amount of eye contact with me.

Jack pulls the door open and lets out a long sigh before disappearing into the hallway, Reece closely behind him.

Liam doesn’t move right away, hovering in that limbo space between the door and me, one hand rubbing against his side like he’s not sure if stepping closer will help or make things worse.

“Holly…” My name comes out quiet, almost hesitant.

When I lift my eyes up from the floor, his own are soft and sad. “I’m sorry. For all of this. For all three of us. We…I’m so sorry.”

The apology is a twist of the knife.

Not because it’s cruel, but because it’s kind, genuine.

Just like Liam.

The problem is I can’t take kindness from him right now, not when my chest already feels split open and bleeding out.

I shake my head, my gaze falling to the floor again. “Just go, Liam.”

He lingers one second longer, maybe waiting for me to look up one last time to give him some kind of sign that I don’t mean it, but I don’t lift my head.

When the door finally shuts behind him, the sound is so soft it almost doesn’t register, but the quiet it leaves behind is deafening.

My knees give way before I even realize I’m moving, and I sink to the floor, my back finding the edge of the couch because I need something solid to keep me upright.

The robe bunches around me, the fabric belt digging into my waist where I’ve cinched it too tight without realizing.

Then the tears come.

Fast, hot, and relentless.

It’s all too much—the relief that my mom’s gone without making good on her threat of involving the police, the guilt over how she found out, the shock I can still see burned into those men’s faces.

Threaded through all of it, heavier than anything else, is the baby.

The fact that there’s a baby at the center of all of this, one I didn’t plan for, one I’m not even sure I can, or want, to keep.

I pull the robe tighter around me, curling in on myself until my forehead rests against my knees.

The tears blur everything, my chest tightening until I can’t tell if the ache is from crying too hard or from the sheer weight of the mess I’ve made of my own life.